


Chemical Reactions - Part 5

by Winchester_with_Wings



Series: Chemical Reactions - Teacher AU [5]
Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Barry Allen without speed, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Shameless Smut, a very flirtatious Barry, no metahumans, rated explicit for future smut, sex at school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7059454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off an anon request for Sub!Barry. I took it to mean either Submissive!Barry or Substitute Teacher! Barry. This series is for Substitute Teacher!Barry Allen.</p><p>SERIES SUMMARY: Being a teacher at Central City Academy doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. You didn’t really notice or care…that is until the day the new substitute science teacher, Barry Allen makes an appearance.</p><p>PART 5 SUMMARY: The tension builds as your date with Barry approaches. Then once it’s here, you’re not sure how the night will go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemical Reactions - Part 5

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Series A/N: In this AU, Barry doesn’t have superpowers. There’s no such thing as the Flash or metahumans. I don’t know if Central City Academy is a real place in the comic universe. The school the reader and Barry work at a school for ages 5-18. 
> 
> Additional notes for this part: Sorry no smut yet. The writer’s block is killing me but hey at least here’s something. Feedback is appreciated!! xoxo

This past week has been pure agony or is the word you’re looking for ‘awkward.’

You’d think that the way you and Barry had been avoiding each other meant you’d declined his offer of dinner. But really after accepting, you’d exchanged class schedules and agreed that what had happened in the Teacher’s Lounge couldn’t happen again.

Then the two of you seemed to go the extra mile in building the tension by using the class schedules to ignore each other. If your paths ever crossed, you kept your head down or your eyes looking in the other direction. By Thursday afternoon, it was getting ridiculous.

Barry would use the crowded halls as an excuse to walk by you, brushing his fingers along the back of your hand as you walked in the other direction. Each time it sent a shiver up your spine and made your breath hitch in your throat.

On Friday, you try to confine yourself to your classroom as much as possible. You eat lunch at your desk and put off printing anything your classroom printer couldn’t handle, unless it is absolutely necessary and then you send your best behaved student to the copy room. Sure, it’s childish but your students love it when they’re given the responsibility to perform a task out of the classroom on their own. It’s one of those few teacher’s pet moments.

You convince yourself it doesn’t look strange. Why _would_ a teacher leave their classroom? They need to teach the class right? And if you’re staying in there during your lunch and free period it’s because there’s grading to be done and maybe some straightening up around the room as well.

There’s one moment, while you’re up in front of the class writing on the whiteboard, that someone outside the door catches your eye through the small window. It’s Barry and he walks by just fast enough to see you and for you to see him, but none of your students see him.

Maybe he was making sure you were here today? You guess that if you’d called in sick and had a sub, then you wouldn’t be up for the date, right? But you are. You’re nervous as hell–not sure why–but you’re also excited, maybe even a little giddy.

At the end of the day, when the class bell rings, so does your phone.

**Barry: _Can’t wait for tonight! ;) 7 pm?_**

You wait to respond. You don’t want to answer too fast. So you set your phone down and walk around the room, saying goodbye to your class, herding them out and making sure they don’t leave anything behind like a sweatshirt–sure enough, someone always does and you catch them before they leave.

“Have a great weekend!” one of your students says on their way out. Another one comes up to you. It’s Katherine Williams, the young girl who’d practically swooned the day you and Barry met.

“Miss?” she addresses you.

“Yeah?” She holds something out to you, clutching it gently in her hand.

“Mr. Allen was eating lunch outside today while we were at recess. He wanted me to give this to you at the end of the day.” It’s a small red flower from the landscaping outside. You accept it with a kind smile. Kate is beaming. She holds out a second one which is sticking out between the pages of a book. “He gave me one too!”

“Well now Mr. Allen is quite the Prince Charming, isn’t he?” You give Kate a small cheeky grin. She sways side to side.

“Oh yes,” she sighs. You giggle.

“Hey, you know if we’re careful with our flowers over the weekend, how about on Monday I show you how to dry and press it so that we can save them and you can use it like a real bookmark?” Kate jumps up and down with excitement.

“Maybe we could teach the whole class?” You agree, walking her toward the door. “See you Monday!” she says, skipping down the hall.

As the noise in the hall dies down and you pack your own bag to head home, you finally pick up your phone.

**You: _See you then, Prince Charming ;P_**

Barry responds instantly.

**Barry: _LOL!! So you got my flower?_**

You choose not to dignify that with a response.

 

* * *

 

It’s about 5 pm.

You collapse onto your bed, groaning. You contemplate the idea of crawling under the covers on your bed and curling into the fetal position. Surely that’d be more comfortable and an excellent alternative to tonight, right?

You flail your arms about. “This is pointless! I have nothing to wear. It’s a sign! I shouldn’t even go,” you gripe.

Caitlin tugs on your legs and then your arms, trying to make you sit up. You slump and threaten to fall back again.

“Well wearing _nothing_ would certainly move things along,” she jokes. She turns to face your closet. “We just need to focus! Pick an outfit! I’m sure you could wear a baggy sweatshirt and basketball shorts and he’d still go for you.”

“I don’t own basketball shorts,” you mumble.

“Oh you should! Ronnie has several pairs. They’re very comfortable,” Caity suggests, getting distracted. You say her name in a warning voice and she gets back on track. “Right, now let me just take care of you. I’m going to live vicariously through you and dress you like the Barbie doll I never had.” You’re positive that’s a lie. She must’ve had at least one barbie to play dress up with. Caitlin is just as beautiful and fashion-forward as she is smart.

“Why are you living vicariously through me? You and Ronnie are perfect together,” you comment, actually sitting up and crossing your legs as you sit at the end of your bed. Caitlin smiles and it’s the smile you know she gets when she thinks about Ronnie.

“Yeah,” she shrugs off your comment so as not to brag, “but I won’t ever have another first date and first dates can be fun.” You’ll have to take her word for it. It’s been too long since you went on any kind of date. Caitlin starts rummaging through your closet. “Hmph!” she huffs. “I knew we should have gone through my closet and yours earlier this week. We’re completely unprepared! We should’ve done it Monday night right after you told me he’d asked you out,” she grumbles, pulling clothes from your closet and dumping them on top of you without concern for your safety. A button hits your face and a zipper tangles in your hair.

“Hey knock it off!” Caitlin sees the state you’re in and winces.

“Oops, sorry.” She helps you untangle the zipper and lay out the clothes properly. She takes hold of one of the items. “Ooo! Ooo!” She runs back to your closet. “Where _this_ with _this_!” She holds the skirt up to her waist and the silk blouse under her chin.

“Where did those come from?” you say, baffled by the beautiful outfit.

“I think this shirt is actually mine,” Caitlin ventures. “But it’s your color so I think I gave it to you?” The origins are still vague even in her eyes. “But oh god, this blouse with this tight pencil skirt…it’s perfect.” She hands them to you while she grabs all of the other clothes on the bed by the hangers and puts them back in your closet. You’ll have to reorganize that later.

You look over the skirt and blouse. The skirt is made of a smooth, black and stretchy material. It’s meant to be worn a little above the waist and it’s a shorter kind of pencil skirt, stopping mid thigh. The blouse is a sort of teal blue and it’s made of a sleek silk fabric. It has a low neckline and part of the V is drawn together by laces or string criss-crossing over where your cleavage would show and then tying into a small bow. You finally remember the first and last time you’d worn the shirt. It hugs your curves well, showing off your figure while being loose and flowing in the right places at the same time. The sleeves are loose too; they’d stop just after your elbow. You have to give Caity credit, this could turn out to be one sexy outfit.

“You can wear these with it!” Caitlin holds up a pair of black pumps. Your eyes might go wide at the sight of the heel. Where did _those_ come from? Is Caitlin actually Mary Poppins and your closet is her carpet bag? She must’ve been digging deep in the corner of your closet where there are several pairs of shoes that were bought on sale and then never worn. You accept the shoes, sliding one on. You appreciate the way they look in contrast to your shaved and moisturized legs. “Oh those look good,” Caitlin comments. “All of this will look great with what I bought you too!”

“You bought me something?” Caitlin produces a bag from the department store you’d gone to with her and Ronnie last weekend. “What did you get me? You shouldn’t have.” Caitlin rolls her eyes and shrugs.

“I may have gone back there…to the lingerie department,” she admits, starting to pull something out of the bag, holding it by the dainty strap.

“Oh god, you _really_ shouldn’t have,” you laugh, eyes wide, jaw dropped and cheeks red. Caitlin gives you a smug grin.

“Oh I _should_ have. I’ve seen your delicates and they’re not delicate enough,” she giggles. “I’m not letting you go on a date wearing boyshorts and t-shirt bra. Even if you’re not going to have sex tonight,” you can’t tell by her tone if she’s disapproving or disappointed, “everything you wear should be sexy because you _are_ sexy and you need to remember that.” She puts the bag on the bed and heads for the bedroom door. “Now put everything on and let me know when you’re ready to strut your stuff.”

“You’re the best, Caitlin!” you call after her. She closes the door behind her. You really couldn’t have asked for a better best friend. And then you open the bag of lingerie. “Oh my god,” you whisper. You start to laugh, feeling hopeless. “Caitlin! You might need to show me how to put all this on!” you shout through the closed bedroom door.

 

* * *

 

When it was all said and done, Caitlin was right. You felt downright sexy.

However, you realized on your short cab ride over to Barry’s place that maybe you were too sexy. Maybe you were dressed up too much. Maybe you looked like you were going to a bar or a club and not someone’s house for dinner.

What if your outfit assumed too much of the date and Barry wasn’t going to go farther than a kiss? Did you want it to go farther than a kiss? The lingering memory of Monday’s encounter in the Teacher’s Lounge answered that for you.

What if Barry was the one wearing a hoodie and basketball shorts?! The mental image is more arousing than you expect and it sends a pleasant sensation through you. This outfit must’ve heightened your sex drive, that’s all. It’s hard not to think about sex when you consider what you’re wearing underneath. What if Barry doesn’t like it? What if he _does_?

Your stomach is doing flips and your hands are shaking when you walk up to Barry’s door. You’re surprised that you were able to walk in the heels. They hurt a bit but the sheer black stockings you’re wearing make it a bit more tolerable.

You can hear music on the other side of the door. It sounds like Barry is singing along too. A smile creeps up on your face as you listen for a few seconds. You probably look like a creep in the hallway though so you knock on the door. The music is turned off a moment later and Barry unlocks the door.

“Hey! Sorry if you had to knock more than once, I had the music up kinda loud,” he starts saying as he opens the door and it’s before he’s really looked at you. Because once he sees you, he looks like he’s been stopped dead in his tracks. You’re weak in the knees instantly too, seeing Barry standing there in nice dark denim jeans and a red sweater. His jaw is slack and his eyebrows raised in surprise as he looks you up and down. “Wow,” he breathes. Then he clears his throat. “You look…I mean…” He leans against his door, resting head against it as if he actually needs the support. He gestures at you, top to bottom. “You look amazing. Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you. You look…really great too,” you say, tucking some of your curled hair behind your ear. You dip your head to hide your blushing cheeks. God you feel like a bashful schoolgirl right now. But wait! You’re not some silly little girl! You hold up the bottle of wine in your hand. “Oh, um, I brought wine,” you declare. The tension between you goes down as you go through the motions of host and guest…for about thirty seconds.

“Oh that’s great! Come on in!” Barry takes the wine from you as you step in. He takes your coat and hangs it up by the door and then it looks like he’s going in for a hug. But considering how things started between you two, you’re not sure if it’s hug or a kiss.

It gets awkward real fast. The two of you bob your heads, avoiding collision. Barry’s arms wrap around you for a hug and that’s how it goes. It’s just a hug…until Barry starts to pull back and release you from his embrace. Because as his face comes close to yours, you’re both casting looks at each other, specifically looking at his and your lips.

“Fuck it,” Barry mutters with breathy chuckle. And then he’s cupping your cheek and brushing his lips against yours. It lasts maybe 3 long seconds and it’s nowhere near long enough. You’re pretty sure your lips follow after his as he breaks away. Barry gives you a sweet smile. Did he notice your eagerness? You need to lock it down, you scold yourself. “Did that break any of the tension?” he ventures. You two step apart, Barry taking the bottle of wine over to the counter where he can open it up.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you say. It might be the exact opposite. Are you and Barry expected to keep your hands off each other tonight? What’s the protocol with this? With two teachers dating? You have no idea.

“So you never answered my other text today,” Barry starts, pouring two glasses of wine. “Did you get the flower?” He hands you your glass. You nod and Barry chuckles. “I wasn’t sure Katherine would give it to you. It seemed like she might want to keep both flowers for herself.” He moves over to the stove and you notice a pan with some rice in it.

“Oh she probably wanted to. She’s smitten with you for sure,” you chuckle. Barry grins his ears are turning pink.

“And you? Are you smitten…yet?” He cocks his hip against the counter, facing you. You walk closer to him but you don’t touch, at first. You look him up and down. Damn he cleans up nice…not that he’s not clean at school…but he looks so relaxed in his jeans and untucked sweater, his brown hair is styled to look like he didn’t style it, his green eyes are twinkling and he’s flashing you a perfect white-toothed grin. But the grin wavers as you get close like he’s nervous and unsure of what you’re about to do and if he can trust himself to keep his cool. You reach up to smooth your fingers over the hair at his temple and behind his ear. You slide your hand down his chest and pat him where his heart is pounding.

“The jury’s still out,” you tease him with your answer. Barry’s tongue darts out to lick his parted lips and he chuckles. You look into the pan, inquiring about it’s contents as if you hadn’t just been teasing him. It takes him a few seconds to recover.

“Right, um, so for dinner…I’m making chicken,” he points to the oven and then the stove, “and rice. I figured that was safe because I didn’t know if you were allergic to anything.”

“I’m not.” That was very considerate of him to think ahead like that though.

“Well…good. I’ll be sure to remember that for future dates.” He smirks at you before going over to the fridge to take out a salad. He’s getting confident again. A little cocky and flirtatious. You like it just as much as you like the shy side of him.

“Optimistic, I see,” you comment. You like the idea that he’s already thinking about other dates. Does that mean you two could actually have a relationship? Are those his intentions? Barry shrugs and smirks at you again.

“Well you already know I’m a great kisser…” You laugh and he playfully scowls at you. “So I figured that half the battle for a second date is won,” he finishes. You reward him with a nonchalant shrug. Barry chuckles. You lift the lid off the pan of rice. “The rice isn’t done yet,” he admits, “I guess I didn’t time it well.”

“Oh that’s okay. I’d like to help.” You pick up the spatula he’s been using to stir. “It needs more water,” you determine, noticing uncooked rice sticking to the bottom. Barry fills a measuring cup with water and gives it to you. It steams and sizzles as you pour it in.

“Oh, and for a vegetable tonight, we’ll be having salad,” Barry grabs a bottle of salad dressing from his fridge. “Because any other veggies are for boring adults.”

“Oh really?” you giggle. Barry opens the bag of salad and dumps it into a large bowl. He checks with you for affirmation before pouring some salad dressing on the lettuce.

“No, not really. I like vegetables. It’s just that Iris is better at actually making them,” Barry grumbles as he tosses the greens.

“Ah, Iris…” you drag her name out, pretending like his mention of her bothers you. It doesn’t, right? He’d said that she was his best friend; that she was almost like a sister to him. Detecting whatever emotion you have about her, Barry leaves his station at the kitchen island counter to come closer to the stove.

“Yeah, you know, the woman you thought was my girlfriend and made you jealous?” His nose scrunches up while he pokes fun at you. You _literally_ poke him in the stomach.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you firmly deny. Mentioning Iris seems so natural to him, is it any wonder that you could jealous of her?

“Uh-huh, sure.” He’s getting closer to you again, leaning in enough that his chest is almost touching your shoulder. You poke him again, this time with the handle of the spatula, while he takes a sip of his wine. He jumps and almost spits some of his wine back into his glass.

“So do you eat a lot of junk food?” You think it’s a valid transition from talking about vegetables.

“I do, actually.”

“You don’t look it,” you try for an awkward compliment. Does Barry’s confidence stem from knowing how good he looks in that soft sweater, the collar of a grey t-shirt peeking out from underneath the sweater; you can see the dip in the middle of his collarbone. For a second you fantasize what it’d be like to kiss him there, to run the tip of your tongue up his throat. What kind of noises would he make? You’re pulled out of your inappropriate daydream when he inhales deeply, his chest puffing up. You look away.

“I work out,” he says, his voice being a little deeper like he’s doing an impression of a jock. You giggle.

“Oh really?” you goad. You look away from the rice when Barry steals away the spatula.

“Yeah, seriously,” he laughs. “I ran track in school. And I still run everyday,” he divulges his secret. “This is a runner’s body,” he gestures up and down at himself. You quirk an eyebrow at him like you’re impressed. He can tell that you’re mocking him. He shakes his head, chuckling. He reaches out to grasp your waist, effectively turning you away from the stove and backing you up until you’re stuck between him and the kitchen island. He plants his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

“I guess I’ll have to see it to believe it,” you dare to whisper.

“Mmhm,” Barry hums, leaning in. His nose brushes along your jaw and near your ear. He presses a kiss to the sensitive spot behind you ear. One of your hands is touching Barry’s waist, fingers grazing the hem on his sweater. You’re starting to tilt your head, fully succumbing to the tantalizing torture it is to have Barry so close and only barely touching you. You inhale, expecting to smell some sort of cologne.

“Um…Barry…”

“Yeah?” he sounds dazed, intoxicated but not from the wine he’s had maybe three sips of.

“The rice is burning.”

“Shit!” Barry whirls around in a flash, grabbing the spatula and taking the pan off the burner to try and save some of the rice, which he does. Then the oven timer goes off, alerting him that the chicken is ready. He takes the chicken out of the oven and sets it on a part of the stove that isn’t being used. He turns around, a little frantic. “Dinner’s ready.” 


End file.
